


And What If

by voksen



Category: Weiß Kreuz
Genre: Dream Sex, F/M, Incest, Piercings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-10-22
Updated: 2009-10-22
Packaged: 2017-10-28 09:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/306315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voksen/pseuds/voksen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And what if, in your sleep, you dreamed? And what if, in your dream, you went to heaven and there plucked a strange and beautiful flower? And what if, when you awoke, you had the flower in your hand?</p>
            </blockquote>





	And What If

He fits against her perfectly, this stranger-Ran, this brother she doesn't know. His arms around her, chest to her back, face buried in her hair: he smells like leather and metal and blood, and it frightens her, just a little, but she'll never show it. He's been being brave for her for years - now it's her turn.

"Ran," she whispers, touching his hands lightly with her own. Grumbling slightly, he shifts over, his nose brushing against her ear, half-sneezes, moves away a little, sighs, doesn't wake.

Aya smiles, holding back a giggle: not everything about her big brother is gone. She rolls over, slowly wriggling around in his arms to face him. It's been a while - even by her memory - since they last slept like this, cuddled up on one futon, but she remembers how to move gently enough that he won't wake up.

Face to face, she can finally look at him, see for herself how different he is. She's stared at Sakura's picture of him for hours, so she knows what to expect, but a picture can never compare to real life. He's taller, of course, she'd felt that before, thinner, harder; his face is sparer and, even sleeping, he looks tired. Underneath that, though, he's not a total stranger. His hair seems a little darker, but it's still the same silly cut; she recognizes his nose, his mouth, the curve of his jaw - the long, golden earring he's wearing. Her breath catches: it's one of the ones he'd bought for her.

It takes a little more careful maneuvering, but she raises a hand, touches it lightly. The metal is warm from lying against his skin and it's just as pretty as it was the day she'd seen it, but somehow it looks better on him than it ever would have on her. Her hand strays to his face, brushing away a stray bit of hair. How many girls can say their brothers love them as much as hers does? she wonders, leaning forward impulsively and kissing his cheek, then settling back down in his arms, squirming down so she can rest her head on his shoulder, against the soft, worn cotton of his t-shirt.

She's nearly asleep again when his arms tighten around her, jostling her a little. He breathes her name and she pushes back the drowsiness and tilts her head back to look up at him, but his eyes are still closed.

Aya puts her arms around him, too, holding him close like he was the younger one, like she could take care of him instead. It's a nice fantasy, even though she knows he's been taking care of both of them for more than two years now. "Ran," she says again, louder this time as he jerks a little, turning his head away from her. "Wake up."

He _whimpers_ quietly, making her heart stutter. What kind of nightmares does he have? Sakura's told her a lot, but surely she doesn't know everything. " _Ran_."

His eyes snap open abruptly, but it seems to take him a little too long to focus on her. "Aya," he says, his voice low, desperate, and squeezes her so tight it hurts, then - leans in and _kisses_ her, full on the mouth.

For an instant she's too shocked to respond at all; then her eyes widen and she puts her hands against his chest, but stops herself before she can push him away. He must not be quite awake yet, that's all, and after everything he's done, with all she knows, the last thing she wants is to reject him.

As the seconds tick by and he doesn't stop it starts getting harder to believe that he doesn't know what he's doing. When his tongue brushes her lips, she can't help making a tiny, shocked noise. That does make him stop, pull back, look into her face - and the look in his eyes is lost, uncertain, so far from either the happiness she remembers or the cold disaffection in Sakura's picture that it breaks her heart to see it.

"I missed you so much, Aya," he murmurs, his hand coming up from around her back to stroke across her cheekbone. Tears well up in her eyes as she feels how hard his fingers are, how callused, and she blinks them away, smiling at him shakily.

And he's so much stronger than she remembers: he rolls them over so that he's lying atop her with what looks like no effort at all, his eartails falling down and brushing past her, tickling slightly. His - her? - his earring gleams through his hair and she reaches up to touch it again, drawn to it by a force she doesn't understand.

"Talk to me," he says, and she glances back from the earring to his face, feeling somehow guilty at having looked away. "Aya, say something."

It's a lot easier to smile this time, with her hand still up against his face, hair and skin and metal against her fingertips. "I love you, Ran," she says, trying to put all her sincerity into it, because she _does_ love him, and she knows she owes him her life (and more than her life), and everything he's done has been for her, in her name. He's still watching her like she's going to vanish out of his arms, so she reaches up with her other hand, cups his face. "I'm here."

Ran's body sags in relief, his head dropping to press against hers, cheek to cheek, and if he's trembling, well, maybe it's a little cold. She puts her arms back around him, cradles him close. He's heavy, atop her like this, but she doesn't mind. It's been lonely without him, trying to figure out where she belongs, hoping she's not being too much of a burden on everyone - including him, out "selling flowers" who knows where, sending money back to her.

He leans up again, balancing himself on his elbows, and looks down at her, studying her face as if he's memorizing everything about her. One-handed, he reaches up and unclasps the earring, holding it tight in his hand. "I'm sorry," he says, looking down at it, then back up to her. "They were yours... but I wanted you with me."

Aya blinks, opens her mouth - but he's fastening it in her ear before she can speak, his hands gentle despite everything, and she has to swallow back the lump in her throat. It stings a little, when he pushes the post through, but the pain is nothing, not really, and it's gone by the time he takes his hands away. "It's okay," she murmurs, when she has control of herself again. "It's okay, Ran."

When he kisses her again, it's not a shock: it's slow, inexorable, _sweet,_ his eyes flickering shut as his lips brush hers. She closes hers, too, her breath shivering out between them, mixing with his. It could almost be platonic, if not for the way he's on top of her, the way she can feel his heartbeat speeding, the way her own quickens in response.

This time, she opens her mouth just a little to his tongue. The kiss - deeper than any she's had before, but still so gentle - makes her shiver and tighten her arms minutely around him, her hands running slowly down his back, feeling the sharp, defined planes. The tiny movements shift her nightgown slightly, drawing the silk tight across her nipples and stiffening them. And the rest of her body is reacting, too, to Ran's closeness, the way they're touching, kissing, the unfamiliar, _male_ touch of his body on hers.

Her legs spread just a little, inadvertently; his body settles into the space and she gasps, shocked, into the kiss at the sudden feeling of his erection pressing hard and hot into her thigh with only two thin layers of cloth between.

Ran jerks away like he's been slapped, guilt and shame flickering across his face before being replaced with that unfamiliar mask. "Sorry," he says curtly, rolling off her, pulling away from her arms and turning his face away, hunching up over his lap. "I shouldn't... Sorry."

Aya could let it go like that. She could let it end, let him pretend this never happened, let him blame himself for what he feels - however he feels - let herself be another weight on his soul. She could keep being lonely and never see him again.

Taking a deep breath, she sits up. He's still turned away, face hidden - which is good, because it would take more courage than she thinks she has to do this with him watching: she gets up on her knees, takes hold of the edge of her nightgown, bites her lip, lifts it up and over, tossing it aside.

Ran glances over, maybe at the hushing of fabric on fabric, maybe at the flicker of movement. Whichever, his mouth drops open, eyes wide, as he registers that she's naked.

Before he can do anything more, Aya reaches forwards and grabs his hands, squeezing them tightly, then pulling them to her shoulders so that she can lean forwards into his arms again, closing her eyes and kissing him hard. It's not graceful, with him in shock and her own inexperience, but she doesn't care: it's enough just to do it.

She turns her head after a few seconds, pressing closer - her breasts up against his shirt-covered chest, so very aware of her own nudity - and, mouth to ear, tells him " _I love you_ " one more time.

Ran makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob and pulls her all the way into his lap so that she straddles his thighs, and the way she ends up pressed up against him makes the breath catch in both their throats as one. He kisses her cheek, her temple, her ear, the earring, over and over, like it might hurt him to stop. "Aya," he whispers, his voice rough, "I want you. I've wanted you..."

It's not the kind of confession Aya ever expected to get, but her life isn't normal and she knows it. Knowing it, though, doesn't keep her hands from shaking as she reaches for the hem of his shirt and tugs it upwards. They separate just enough for him to peel it off. He stops, one hand on the waist of his boxers, and looks up at her; she nods, biting her lip lightly and shifting back off of his lap. He squirms out of them - somehow managing to look amazingly graceful while doing so - and then pulls her gently back to him.

Aya gets a brief glimpse of white, long-healed scars, all over him, and then she's on his lap again, skin to skin this time. His erection slides between her legs, rubbing up against her pussy so slick and easy that she hides her face against his neck, embarrassed at how wet she is, how _good_ it feels to have her brother's dick bumping against her.

He groans aloud, grinding against her slightly, the friction making her gasp - and then lifts her up just a little, enough so he can reach down and take hold of himself, pushing his dick along her, rubbing her clit with the head of it. With his other hand, he turns her face gently so he can watch her, ignoring her furious blush, waiting for her to look back up at him before he sets himself against her just so and stops, holding still.

She lowers herself slowly onto him, holding on tight to his shoulders for balance, her breath coming out in a low, shivery moan. Although she's heard it's supposed to be painful, it isn't at all: he slides in easily, stretching and filling her until she's all the way back down on his lap, the whole length inside her.

"God, _Aya_ ," he says, his head falling back a little, and she does it again, up, then down, watching pleasure wash over his face. He starts to thrust as well; it's awkward at first, and they're off more than on, but gradually it works out. He supports her with one arm around her back, his other hand rubbing her clit as she rides him, teasing her until she bucks forwards into his touch, driving their thrusts deeper until she cries out, begging him for more, shameless in her desperation. When she finally comes it knocks the breath out of her, makes her tense up so tightly it seems he's twice as big inside her, his final thrusts so deep they almost hurt.

When she opens her eyes, she's alone in bed - her own bed, with Sakura snoring quietly across the dark room. The aftershocks of orgasm are still tingling through her, so strong that she can feel it radiating, pulsing through her whole body, but Ran is, of course, nowhere near.

Aya closes her eyes again, draws the back of her hand across them, trying not to think about how terrible she is for dreaming something like that, how terrible she is for _doing_ what she had in the dream. She blinks them open again, sniffling back tears, and climbs to her feet. Maybe a drink of water will help her get back to sleep. Maybe she won't remember in the morning. Maybe...

Halfway across the room, she stops, her gaze drawn to the window. They'd closed it earlier that night because of the rain, but it's wide open now. On the sill, something glints in the moonlight as the last of the clouds drift away.

She nearly falls out of the window looking for something, _anything_ to explain what she finds, but there's nothing to be seen anywhere on the street below. Trembling, she closes the window firmly and draws the curtains, Ran's earring clutched tightly in her fist.


End file.
